Pickles, Popcorn and Lemon Tea
by stargirl0912
Summary: Sonny is struggling through a serious problem when she runs into the famous, and handsome, Chad Dylan Cooper. Will he be able to help her through her problem before its too late? Rated T to be safe
1. Chapter 1

They say that when you die, your whole life flashes in front of you, but I know that's not true. For me it was just a few memories, punctuated by the weak pounding of my heart.

Thud. Thud.

I remember the way my mother used to smile when she held me and how that little wrinkle used to show up right near her lip and disappear when she stopped smiling. She called it a dimple and I used to poke it to make it stay in place even when she wasn't happy.

Thud. Thud.

I remember the time Shannon Higgins's mom dropped me home from ballet early one day and how I ran up to my dad's room to hug him since he'd been gone on a business trip for the last two weeks and how my dad picked me up and spun me around so I wouldn't see the naked lady coming out of the bathroom. And how my dad forgot that there was a mirror right behind him

Thud. Thud.

I remember the time I went to the little carnival they had every year with my friends and how I practiced my self control and didn't eat an ice cream cone with sprinkles on top and hot fudge to and how I told everyone I was doing an experiment. And how they believed me.

Thud. Thud.

And I remember his face because it's the last thing I saw.

Of course, I didn't just die. I was murdered in cold blood by someone I should've stopped. But I didn't know better and once I figured out enough it was too late. In any case, how or why I died isn't important. It's all the things that happened before then that I know I will love and treasure forever.

A year ago, there were three things I loved more than anything else: pickles, popcorn, and lemon tea. They're not particularly remarkable, except that they led to a string of coincidences that led me to him.

August 28, 2010. It was the day of the farmers' market, and my mom dragged me with her even though I hated going. She convinced me because they would have the pickle stand, with every variety of pickle known to man, woman, and dog (they used to throw down little pieces for even the dogs to try). They had extra salty and spicy and black peppercorn & herbs, which was my favorite.

When we got to the farmers' market, which was held right in the parking lot of the train station, just a block from all the mom & pop stores main street, my mom headed over to the fresh burgers that someone was selling. I don't eat beef at all and I generally avoid meat, not because I'm an animal lover but because of the way meat tastes in my mouth. It always tastes slimy or too salty unless I get someone to overcook it and make it bland, but then it's too dry and I don't like that either. So I don't like eating meat, but I love pickles.

I went over to the pickle stand while my mom was buying the burgers (she found veggie burgers for me but I told her paying seven bucks for two burgers wasn't worth it and the stand lady started giving me dirty looks). Even though you might be thoroughly disgusted by pickles, which I completely understand and respect, you are probably thinking of some grocery store-bought sitting-on-a-shelf-for-six-years type. Just to clear things up, these babies at the farmers' market were gourmet pickles. Since I live in Chester, also known as the richest and whitest town in the state, my neighbors and their friends are pretty in to gourmet, so there was a big crowd around the pickle stand and a long line.

I walked to the back of the line and stood there playing with my hair. I was growing it out and at that time it was about two inches above my hip bones. The whole way up to the front of the line I was thinking about my hair, which I guess sounds incredibly vain, but you have to realize that I almost never do that. I was actually thinking about my hair and the kind of hair I would want my dream guy to have. I have dark brown, almost black, hair so I could never picture myself with anyone who didn't have dark hair.

I finally got to the front of the line and bought a pound of pickles. The lady at the stand put them in a round Tupperware jar thing – like the ones they give you at Chinese restaurants when you order soup to go – and was having trouble snapping the lid on. I told her she could leave it half off and I would fix it and I paid for the pickles.

I decided that I would just head back to the car and try to fix the lid once I got there. I picked up my precious pickles and turned around, but I had forgotten about the crowd and I moved too fast and the jar of pickles slipped out of my hand and fell on a guy wearing a suit who was standing near me. The brine in the pickle jar left a very awkwardly-placed wet mark on the guy's pants and I immediately started laughing.

I couldn't help it. I don't know what came over me but I just couldn't shut up. It really wasn't in character for me either. I'm usually the type of person who helps people no matter what (hobos tend to love me because I can't resist giving them money). Anyway, the guy became really mad, and demanded my address so he could bill me for the dry cleaning charges for his suit. What an asshole. The whole time he was yelling at me though, I was staring at his eyes, which were the most brilliant icy blue I had seen in my life. Looking into his eyes was like looking into the face of the engagement ring of my dreams.

Now don't get any ideas. I did not like this guy because, firstly, he was an asshole, and secondly he looked like he was almost 30. I'm 16, and that would be completely illegal so get your mind out of the gutter and pay attention.

I don't know why I did it, but I still gave him my name and my address. Maybe it was his eyes, or maybe it was my helpful side finally kicking in, I don't know, but in any case, he took it and stormed off unhappily. Then my mom came over looking as mad as ever and asked me what was going on. I told her I dropped pickles on some guy and he was pretty pissed, but I conveniently left out the part about the guy sending us the bill. We're a bit tight on cash right now, since my mom's a professor at a university not too far from home and my dad's child support checks only cover so much.

As I said, I love pickles, so I started walking back to the end of the line to get another jar, but my mom had had enough and she dragged me off to the car. It was a great day.

The next morning, I checked the mailbox and found the bill waiting right on top of all the other mail. It wasn't even postmarked, so that jerk had gone through the trouble of coming all the way over here just to drop off the bill. I laughed to myself. Want me to pay for your gas money too?

He had written his address on the back of the bill, along with a note saying "I take cash or personal check." I'm telling you, rich people always take it too far. The address was in the next town over – Madison – but since I live right near the edge of my town, it was only about a mile away. I grabbed the cash (sixteen-year-olds generally don't write personal checks) and my converses and headed out for a carefree morning stroll. Yeah right. At least it wasn't raining.


	2. Chapter 2

I turned left out of my driveway and started walking. Even though it was august, I was wearing jeans and a windbreaker because I felt cold just about always. Plus, if I wore shorts I would have had goosebumps the size of peas, literally.

After walking for about 20 minutes, I realized that I had probably misjudged the distance (since I'd just pictured the distance in my mind and hadn't actually checked my phone, typical me), so I pulled out my phone and brought up Google Maps. It turned out that the house was 3.2 miles from my house, or 2.1 miles from where I was standing. I was starting to get tired but I kept going. That's what I learned in cross country – you run through exhaustion. Of course, Coach said to run through pain too and made me run through an already sprained ankle, making it ten times worse, so maybe she didn't have the best advice, but I didn't really care. As I often told people, I'm 16, I'll start taking care of my body in 20 years but until then I really don't give a shit. Right now, I'll do whatever I want to my body, thank you very much.

My body is something I'm really insecure about. I used to be skinny, but I've put on a good chunk of weight so my thighs are enormous and my stomach is disgusting. Plus, I'm not like every other fat girl in the world who has huge boobs. Nope. I am not that lucky. Let's just say my milkshake doesn't bring very many guys to the yard. The numbers on the scale do go down, because I exercise and eat right, but you can't really tell I've lost weight just by looking at me. My friends are really sweet about it though; they always tell me I'm looking good and that, understandably, makes me pretty happy.

I guess I must have tripped or something while I was musing about my body, because all of a sudden the ground was rushing up to say hello. And then I guess my head hit something because I didn't even get a chance to put in a "howdy" before everything went black. I had great coordination.

The next thing I remember is seeing those eyes again. The icy blue ones, except this time they were on a tanned, handsome face and were framed by long golden eyelashes. And, most importantly, they belonged to someone much closer to my age. I remember being so busy admiring his angular jaw bones and his beautiful eyes and the adorable sprinkling of freckles across his nose and cheeks that I didn't even feel him shaking my shoulders.

"Hello? Hello? Are you Okay?" someone yelled anxiously, and it took me a minute to realize it was the boy with the blue eyes who was speaking.

I quickly replied "Yeah uh yeah I'm okay. I uh, I think I uh, tripped. Or something." As you can tell, I am quite the orator.

"Oh," he said with surprise, "it looked like you just passed out."

"You were watching me because..?" I replied with what I hoped was a flirtatious smile.

He pointed at the fancy blue car that was parked a few feet away. "I was just driving by. Don't get your hopes up," he said and stuck his tongue out. I giggled and he sobered a bit. "You're sure you're fine though, right?"

I nodded and he helped me up to my feet. The world around me spun so I grabbed on to his shoulder to steady myself.

"Maybe you should let me drive you to wherever you're going," he said slowly.

I tried to shake my head but that just made the spinning worse and then everything went black again. I guess I had hit my head harder than I had thought.

This time when I came to I realized that I was somewhere very cool. And by cool, I do not mean neat, or hip, or snazzy. I mean cool, as in freezing. I opened my eyes and yanked up the sleeve of my windbreaker, and sure enough, I had been attacked by peabumps. What a surprise.

I pulled my sleeve down and hugged myself to keep warm and I had just closed my eyes and was drifting off to sleep when I realized that I did not know where I was. My eyes snapped back open and I sat up quickly. Big mistake, but this time when the world spun, I fought the darkness and stood up, steadying myself on the arm of the couch I had been laying on. I didn't bother to take a close look at the room around me, because I wasn't planning on staying there long.

When I was feeling a bit steadier, I walked across the room towards what appeared to be a hallway. I guess I rounded the corner too fast because I crashed right into Mr. Blue-eyes from before and he spilled a glass of water that he was carrying all over me. And then he slipped and fell on me and we both ended up on the floor. Yeah I'm a pretty lucky person, I thought, but it wasn't all sarcasm. True, I was soaking wet, but Mr. Blue-eyes was lying on top of me, and his eyes were only a few inches from mine.

We laid there for a minute, frozen and in shock and I thought I saw his lips move imperceptibly closer to mine, so I let my eyelids flutter shut and he closed the distance between us. His lips were impossibly soft against mine, but I could only enjoy them for a few moments before he pulled back. I opened my eyes and found his eyes searching my face. I smiled, and he finally broke the silence and said "who are you?"

I started laughing because I realized that we still didn't know each other's names and he joined in. He lifted himself off me with his toned arms and helped me to my feet.

"Whoa. Head rush," I said, as the room swayed around me a bit.

He grinned and replied, "So do people call you Whoa, or Ms. Head Rush?"

I playfully punched him. "My name's Allison Monroe, but everyone calls me Sonny."

"Alrighty then, Sonny," he said heading back towards the kitchen, "why don't I get you another glass of…wait–" he paused. "Allison Monroe? As in Allison Monroe the pickle throwing maniac?"

"What are you talking about?" I replied, more than just a little confused.

"Yesterday my brother was at the farmer's market and some girl named Allison Monroe threw a jar of pickles at him," he said slowly.

"Okay first of all, I didn't throw pickles at him, I accidentally bumped into him while carrying a half-closed jar of pickles and secondly your brother is just a–"

He held up his hand to stop me. "Yeah my brother exaggerated again, big surprise, big surprise." He grinned and said, "Come here and look at this. He even put you into his calendar."

I walked over to where he was standing and looked at the day he was pointing to. Sure enough, he had carefully printed "Pickle attack" in the 11:30 am spot on August 28th. "He writes down things that already happened?" I asked, a little confused.

"He's actually psychic." He paused to let it sink in and let my jaw drop. "Just kidding," he continued, "no he just likes to remember every little memory. He used to be obsessed with it and he'd take pictures of every single thing, but now he just writes down what happened to him every day. It's like a public diary, which," he pointed to an entry which said 'slept with Jessica,' "can sometimes have a bit too much information."


	3. Chapter 3

"A public diary," I said, thinking, "so that means you know pretty much everything there is to know about your brother?"

He nodded. "Yeah pretty much. But even if he didn't have the calendar I still probably would. We're pretty tight."

I thought about my sister for a second and a shadow must have crossed my face because he asked, "What's wrong? Is that too weird for you?"

"Yeah," I said, and laughed, but I think it came out sounding a bit forced.

I decided to change the topic, because we were getting into subjects I didn't really want to get into. "So you still haven't told me your name," I said, raising one eyebrow (a feat that I have been extremely proud of since Janie Abbott taught me how to do it in the second grade).

He laughed and said, "Yeah, yeah, very funny."

I wrinkled my brow, pretty confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh come on," he said, and rolled his eyes, "everyone knows me. I'm Chad Dylan Cooper, the greatest actor of our generation."

Oh, right, Chad Dylan Cooper, the actor guy. His face was a bit familiar but it looked pretty different from what I had seen in his movies. I decided to tease him and said, "Still don't know what you're talking about big guy, but okay whatever floats your boat." I took the glass of water from his hand and innocently sipped it.

He started to look a little frazzled. "What? Wait, wait, what? Are you serious? You don't know this face?"

"Well I mean your face does sort of look like my aunt's cat's face," I replied, trailing off with a smile.

"Aha! So you did know me!" He sighed with mock relief. "That was not funny… Sonny."

I giggled and he glared at me. "What? Rhymes are always funny," I said with a shrug. "And anyway, what is a big actor like you doing in Chatham?"

"Well I'm shooting the last few scenes of a movie I'm in and then I'm spending 2 months with my brother," he replied, in a way that made it seem like he had already explained it to a hundred people.

"What are you doing after that?" I asked. I didn't want to get involved with a guy who was leaving in just 2 short months.

"I really don't know," he said softly. He paused for a minute. "But if someone gave me a reason to stick around for a while longer, I would," he added with a playful smile.

I punched him in the arm lightly, and he feigned pain. "Hey," he said, "these are the arms I used to carry you, so they're plenty sore."

I blushed. I hated being fat and making people's arms sore. "Right, yeah sorry. I know I'm pretty large," I said, studying my blue and orange socks. Even my feet were fat.

"No, no I didn't mean it like that," Chad said, his eyes large and apologetic. "You're practically a stick."

"Practically," I replied bitterly. I hated it when people were sarcastic about my weight. It was just hurtful and unnecessary. I pulled the money out of my pocket and practically threw it at Chad. "Tell your brother he can leave the change in my mailbox. I'll expect it there by the day after tomorrow," I said coldly.

I started walking towards the front door, and I had almost made it there when Chad said, "Sonny wait! I didn't mean anything by it I was just making a joke!" When I didn't stop or turn around, he added, "Sonny, I think you're beautiful. Really!"

I opened the door and turned around. "Yeah," I said, "that's what they all say," and closed the door. I hurried down the front steps and across the wide lawn. By the time I reached the street Chad had opened the door and was struggling to put on a pair of sneakers to follow me.

"Sonny, please!" he said desperately, "I just, I want to see you again."

I risked looking over my shoulder and saw that he had given up following me and was just standing on the front steps, watching me disappear down the street.


End file.
